My Angel
by AmaraAmerica
Summary: Alfred's world crashes when Arthur commits suicide on his birthday.


**First fanfic of this account! I hope it's good. A bit depressing though, because I've had daydreams about this idea for the longest time. And well, I haven't written anything in forever. So uh, I know this idea has been used, but oh well.**

Alfred was just one of the many other nations and people standing in the funeral home. Arthur's funeral. He had heard Arthur committed suicide on July 4th due to overwhelming depression about his independence. Alfred couldn't help but feel extremely guilty. It was sort of his fault after all.

Alfred tried his best to hold in tears during the ceremony. Arthur was important to him, really important. He loved him for longest time, and this had to go and happen to him. His heart was broken. His whole world was broken. He didn't know what to do with himself. All of this on his birthday.

He was always the happy hyper kind of guy. He wasn't ready for sudden depression like this. Alfred never felt like this before. He let one tear slip down his cheek, and Mathew took notice to it and put a hand on his shoulder.

Then came the part that he had been dreading the most. Four men came in carrying the coffin. How could this all happen? Nations couldn't die that easily. Maybe it was because of Arthur's state or health at the time? The coffin was wooden, with a clear top at the end. Alfred could see Arthur's face clearly through the glass. He couldn't take it anymore. Hero's don't cry. They don't. But he did, he let the tears flow. Down his cheeks, onto the floor.

He shook a bit, trying to hold in the sobs that were aching to come out. On his other side was Francis. The French man didn't look too happy either. Despite having been fighting with Arthur for the longest man, the older man was quite depressed too. He had partially raised Arthur, after all.

Then Francis put his arm around Alfred's shoulders, letting the younger cry into his shoulder. This couldn't be happening. By the time that the ceremony was over, people had went up to give their last words about the English man. Alfred however, couldn't bring himself to do it.

The coffin was open for viewing now, and Alfred debated in his mind with himself about if he should go and look at Arthur, or not. He ended up going however.

Alfred stared down at the emotionless face that was on Arthur. He put his hand to his head and ran his fingers through his golden bangs. He then reached down and carefully touched Arthur's cheek. So cold. The tears came back, and he let out a quiet sob. This wasn't like him, shouldn't he man up and be a hero? Near the back by the door, since Alfred was the only one in the room, Francis, Kiku, and Mathew held a close eye on the young nation.

Of course they were worried about him. Alfred sniffled and pulled his glasses off to rub his eyes. _"What a cry baby." _He thought. "God Arthur.." he said quietly. "This is my fault. It's all my fault. You could've just.. told me that you were like this. I could've tried to help, it wouldn't be much but at least I could've tried. And now you're here.. laying there cold and dead!" he said a bit louder, not being able to help it because he was practically sobbing out his words.

Alfred's voice was cracked, strained, and high-pitched. "Damnit.. damnit it all. Damn you. I love you.." he couldn't help but say the words that he had been wanting to say to his former-brother for a long time. "I love you, Arthur. Come back, please." He cried, haven fallen to his knees by now, clinging onto the side of the coffin with his hands.

From the doorway, Mathew looked up at Francis. "Should we go and get him?" he whispered, but of course that was his normal voice. Francis looked over at Alfred then back. "No.. leave him be for now." He said, his words changed because of his accent. Mathew just nodded.

When Alfred thought he was okay enough to leave the room he shakily stood up, trembling and headed out of the room, past Mathew, Francis, and the others and to the bathroom to clean his face. Of course people had noticed the tears and puffy eyes, but they didn't say anything.

What would a world without Arthur be?

It was a few days later, and when the ceremony officially ended, Alfred couldn't bare to go back to his home alone. He didn't know what he would do with himself he was alone there. Mathew offered to let him stay at his house though. When he was there, Alfred tried his best to resume his normal self, but it wasn't working.

For those past few days, he hadn't eaten much. And then days turned into weeks. He was now underweight. He had kept his jacket, but now it was a bit big for him due to the weight loss, and it only hanged loosely on his shoulders. Mathew took note that you could even see his ribs now. He tried to get Alfred to eat, but Alfred would say things like "I'm not hungry," or "I had something to eat earlier.".

Alfred would just either sleep all day in the Canadian's guest room, or just sit on the couch and watch TV. He surprisingly didn't talk either. It was all too much for him, he couldn't take Arthur, the once-love-of-his-life gone. All his life he promised to be a hero. Not just any hero, but a hero for Arthur.

Mathew knew that, and decided to confront him about it. "Alfred, didn't you say you were Arthur's hero to me?" he asked. At one point in the week, Alfred admitted to loving Arthur to Mathew. "Yeah." He answered. Mathew sat beside him on the couch. "Then would've he liked it if you kept going. To keep remembering him?" the Canadian said, putting a hand on the other's shoulder. "I guess.." Alfred answered, in a mono-tone like voice. "Then you should. Remember he'll be always in your heart. In your mind. He would've liked you to keep living without him, to keep him in mind. And you never know, he might be up there.. watching you." Mathew said.

Alfred stared at him with empty blue eyes. "Angels don't exist." He said lowly. "They don't, nothing like that exists." He said. Alfred had believed they did before, but not anymore. Mathew frowned. "They do.." he said sadly. "Arthur's up there. He could be your guardian angel for all we know."

Alfred clenched his teeth, and with one swift movement he whacked his fist on the coffee table. "Shut up! I.. I don't want to hear anymore about him!" he yelled, making Mathew jump at the tone.

He had done it again. It was the second time he yelled at his brother like that. "I'm a horrible person.." he said to himself when he was trying to sleep that night.

And something he didn't know was, there was a certain English angel in his room at that time. When Alfred had fallen asleep, Arthur, in a white angelic gown, halo, and wings that were white and made of feathers went up to the sleeping young one and kneeled beside him. He was crying too, the wound from where he shot himself with a gun previously was vanished. Arthur leaned down and kissed Alfred's forehead. "I'm here.." he whispered sadly, also giving a sad smile.

"I love you too, Alfred."

**S-So.. I might plan to continue this in a different story, like a sequal, if anyone likes. And that would probably involve more of that wonderful angel. I really want to continue it though, and maybe you can give me some tips. I haven't written in a long time, so I'm a bit rusty of course. But I promise, if I do a sequal to this, it wouldn't jump around as much and there would be more detail. Besides, it's a bit late and I'm tired! Please review~.**


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